


The Edge of the Circle

by AceGreyManx



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Action, F/M, Growing Up, High School, Horror, Mystery, Self-Doubt, Slow Burn, The big bad - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2018-07-14 05:21:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7155368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceGreyManx/pseuds/AceGreyManx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The miraculous have existed for eons; a magic that has worked cyclically through time to save the world." </p><p>"Save the world? From what?"</p><p>"...You didn't really think they were made to fight butterflies, did you?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The thought that spawned this: If Hawkmoth's powers come from a miraculous, and the miraculous are made to be used for good, then what are our heroes actually meant to be fighting?
> 
> Please note: This story is AU from the end of Season One.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After all, the only time you need a miracle is when nothing else can save you.

It was on again.

"— _the second occurrence this month, bringing the total up to nine since January. Authorities have stated that the case is still ongoing. There has been some criticism that the police are not taking these disappearances seriously enough, even suggesting it could be due to the economic—"_

"I think that's enough of that." Her father said as he brought the remote up to switch off the television. The panning shot of a rundown street snapped to black and the lights came on in the living room. Marinette blinked, trying to rid herself of the greenish after-image that had imprinted itself behind her eyelids.

Her father laid a large hand on her head. "It's getting late, _ma petite_. You shouldn't watch such gloomy things before sleeping." He smiled down at her, "Run up and brush your teeth and get to bed early tonight. You've been looking tired lately."

Marinette smiled back. "That's a good idea, Papa. I'll be down to say goodnight." She dropped a kiss on his cheek as she got up from the couch. He watched her leave fondly. Once she'd gone, he picked up the remote again and the television buzzed back to life.

" _-the authorities saying the area is secure and there is no cause for panic. Mayor Bourgeois has assured-_ "

"Oh no." Sabine sighed as she came into the room, wiping her hands on an apron. "Not bad news, is it?" She moved around the couch to sit next to him.

"Seems so."

Her head rested against his shoulder and they watched together in silence. When the story finished and the newscaster moved on to other topics, she leaned back. "Has Marinette gone up to bed?"

He nodded.

"Poor dear. She's been working so hard lately. She looks exhausted." Slowly, she got up. "I don't know what kind of homework they're giving kids these days, but it's too much. But then, I guess she wanted to go to that school."

"Sabine, _chérie_." He called.

She turned back. "Hmmm?"

He was still seated; eyes on the screen, a puzzled frown creasing his face.

"Since when has Marinette been watching the news?"

* * *

Ladybug glanced back over her shoulder as her feet settled on the rooftop across the street. The bakery sat in darkness, the light in her parents bedroom finally extinguished. She felt some of the day's tension leave her, seeping out into the night air with her breath. Apparently she relaxed a bit too much, for the yawn she'd been holding in also crept out. With a brief roll of her neck and shoulders, she made an effort to shake the tiredness off before leaping up and over the adjacent roof.

When she'd first started as a hero she hadn't liked night patrol. She'd done it as a part of her responsibility as Paris' new protector, but it had cost her sleep, time, and stress, and through it Ladybug had come to see an ugly side to her city that she'd never really wanted to know. Two years later, she found herself appreciating the nightly excursions in a way she hadn't anticipated.

Patrol still wasn't exactly something she looked forward to, but the feeling of accomplishment it gave was almost a relief. Unlike akuma, night patrol wasn't about keeping an unstable maniac from upsetting her civilian life. It wasn't about big battles and big magic and worrying for her friends and family. More importantly, it wasn't just another loop in the long reel of Papillon's attacks, resetting Paris so that it could be knocked down again the next week.

Night patrol was about leaving the city better off than she found it. Just a little bit better. Just a little bit brighter. Any decently sized city had crime and strife, and hers had plenty of both. She knew she couldn't eradicate all of it, but this was the one thing she could do that had concrete results. Crime rates dropped, areas became safer for the citizens, and Ladybug got to vent her frustrations on some of the pests that crawled out after dark.

So yes, some nights she almost enjoyed her duties. Tonight, however, was not one of those nights. It was the middle of the semester at school and she felt drained. She hated to think of the homework that had piled up, waiting on her desk for her. It seemed like all she'd been doing was studying lately. Luckily, the evening didn't seem to be particularly pleasant for anyone. Autumn chill was fast descending and the streets were relatively quiet. It appeared it was going to be an uneventful night, that is unless she wanted to cite someone for public urination.

Ladybug averted her eyes. She might be a superhero, but some things were better left to the police.

She touched down onto the roof of the Ambassade du Maroc, the last stop in her rounds. Her view stretched across Trocadero and the Seine to the lights of the Tower. She felt a familiar rush of pride fill her. Ladybug truly loved her city: its history, its spirit, its people. She loved it from the top of its gleaming monuments to the bottom of its dirty alleys. Everything had a story here, and she would do whatever she could to protect it.

Of course, as she fought down another yawn, she had to admit that she wouldn't have minded exploring those stories during daylight hours. Finally, the urge won out and her jaw cracked open with a sleepy sigh.

"You know, they say it's no rest for the wicked, but I'm only a little bit wicked and you're not at all. Yet here we are."

A smile curved her lips at the playful voice, but she took a second to compose herself before turning. "Oh?" she asked, eyebrow raised, "I'd hardly call you 'wicked'. 'Shameless', sure. 'Incorrigible', absolutely. But I'm not certain you have what it takes to be wicked."

He flashed her a smile; white teeth and green eyes against the dark. "You always see the good in me, my lady."

"That wasn't a compliment," she muttered as he moved out into the light. It softened his features, the yellow glow from the tower catching on his hair like a halo and revealing the affable boy that was her partner.

"I didn't expect to see you out tonight," he said, eyes shining.

"I couldn't sleep," she told him.

Chat gave her a look that clearly stated he wasn't buying it but would let her keep her excuses for now. "Well, I'm not complaining. It's rare enough that I get to see you lately. I've been counting the hours since we last met. I was beginning to forget what you look like."

"You always forget what I look like; it's part of the glamour." She crossed her arms. "And we fought an akuma together yesterday."

"Exactly. Much too long. Poets can't capture the loss."

"Well, you can stay here poetically lamenting my loss then. I have places to be."

"You're not finished?" he asked, walking with her until she leapt off the roof.

"Not yet!" she called.

Without further questioning, he fell in behind her, following her lead as they moved across Paris in a weaving dance. She was glad she'd run into him. Although she would never admit it aloud, Ladybug always enjoyed his company. The time went faster and the chore became less onerous when they shared the rooftops. Provided he wasn't actually _trying_ to be funny. Three years of working together and she had still not caught on to his sense of humour.

He hadn't changed much. Chat Noir was still ridiculous and reckless and an unapologetic flirt. He was also one of her closest friends. Sometimes, when they were together, it would suddenly hit her that she still didn't know his name. That he wasn't just 'Chat Noir'. They shared such a huge part of their lives with each other, yet she wouldn't have recognised him if she bumped into him on the street. She knew that as long as there was a chance of either one of them getting caught under an akuma's spell, it was too risky to share that knowledge. Even so, there were times when, as she drifted off in class, she tried to imagine her nighttime friend as a civilian. She thought she could picture the type of swaggering, carefree person he would be. Yet no matter how much she tried, she could never put a face to the image.

They arrived. Putting her thoughts away, Ladybug gingerly stepped down onto the broken pavement. 

Chat touched down behind her. "You always take us to the nicest places."

It wasn't an affluent area. Many of the buildings were dark and dilapidated, the outer layers having long chipped away to reveal old brick underneath. Their supports had started to tilt with age and they either leant in toward the street or slanted sideways at awkward angles. That wasn't even touching on the garbage that had collected in the gutters and gaps between buildings. She imagined it looked worse during the day. The cool tones of night blurred reality, hiding it under the shadows. A solitary streetlight stood forlornly at the corner, it's reflection mirrored in the many dark windows like an iris.

Chat looked around, perplexed. "This is about the disappearances, isn't it?" he said, "I think I've seen it in the paper."

"Yes. There was another one last night," she said, moving closer to the light.

"My lady, I know you're brilliant, but isn't this a little bit out of our usual realm of expertise? We don't exactly have the authority or the resources to go taking on detective work."

"No, I know."

She was looking up. Her gaze was fixed on a window no different from the others, as if she was trying to scry something through the black glass. He moved closer.

"Buginette?"

"She was seventeen," she said. "The last one, I mean. She was the same age as us."

It wasn't the first serious crime string Paris had suffered during their tenure. It wouldn't be the last. They knew there were some things that they were just not qualified to do, and ongoing serial investigations were at the top of that list. That didn't mean it had been easy accepting those limitations. As much as she told herself that she couldn't be everywhere, couldn't save everyone, there was still a voice inside her that whispered ' _You didn't have to be everywhere. You just had to be here.'_

Even magic and power and miracles was not enough. Sometimes, she wondered what the point of a miraculous was if it was only meant to stop another miraculous.

A hand clasped her shoulder. Chat looked at her, concerned.

Sighing, she relented. "Let's go."

With two great leaps the heroes took off to return to their daily lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm finally doing it. Here it is, my first attempt at a real story. A complete chapter-by-chapter story. No drabbles. No one-shots.


	2. Chapter 2

"Where should we sit today?" Nino asked, fishing a lunchbox out of his bag.

"Courtyard?" Marinette suggested. "It's not too cold. We should enjoy the outdoors while we still can."

"Sounds good to me."

Together they lay claim to a sunny spot on the sparse grass of the outer courtyard. Marinette pulled out her drink bottle and the white paper bag her father had given her. Inside was a mostly healthy lunch with the exception of two neatly wrapped macarons. As surreptitiously as she could, she slipped them into her purse for Tikki.

"Man," Nino held up a rather soggy looking sandwich. "It's times like this I really miss Adrien."

"I know. And by 'miss Adrien' you mean 'miss Adrien buying me lunch everyday'," she clarified.

"Hey, it wasn't _every_ day. But, yeah, pretty much."

"The truth comes out."

"Well," Nino stated unabashedly, "I still get to see my buddy. What I don't get anymore are good lunches."

"Here," Marinette passed him a mini-quiche. "Take that and stop complaining."

" _Thank yooooou_!" He gasped, tears of joy in his eyes. He held the treat aloft almost reverently before stuffing it entirely into his mouth.

"Well, it's either that or listen to your stomach grumble all through tech again."

As they settled into their usual routine, Marinette watched the other students make their way in and out of the courtyard. She recognised faces but couldn't claim that she knew the people behind them very well. Lycée Eustache was a colourful school with colourful students, well renown for it's technical courses. Because of this specialty it was also quite small, yet Marinette could count the number of people she knew here on one hand. She had never actually been good at making friends, as her first two years at collége could attest. Most of the credit for the difference in her third year went to Alya. Though, to be fair, what separated her from her classmates nowadays wasn't fear of bullying.

She doubted she would have anyone here at all if not for Nino, and she counted herself very lucky to have that one. She'd always assumed he would head to the same school as most of their class. Apparently, she'd underestimated his passion for film and music. And even though he and Alya had decided to call things off as they went their separate ways, Nino had remained adamant that "school-buddies stick together". The two spent their first year complaining about classes, sharing Alya stories, and developing the rapport that they'd never really gotten around to with the buffers of their best friends between them.

"Hey, Mari," Nino asked, pulling her from her reflections. She looked over as she took a swig from her drink bottle, "You still have that massive crush on Adrien, right?"

_Hrrrck!_

Marinette choked. Sputtering, she tried desperately to keep any liquid from dribbling out between coughs. Nino was no help, laughing and throwing in an occasional pat on her back. Once her body was back under control, she brought watery eyes up to glare at him.

"Would you _stop that_?" she croaked.

"Sorry, sorry," he hiccuped. "Man, it never gets old."

Marinette wiped at her face with the back of her sleeve.

"I'll take that as a 'yes' then." He continued when she didn't answer.

She frowned at him. "What is your _point?_ "

He brought his hands up. "Don't kill me. I'm just asking because I'll be meeting up with him tonight. It's been a while, right? I thought you might want to tag along."

She couldn't help the blush that made its way up her cheeks. Though if anyone asked, she'd swear it was due to the choking.

"Ah, tonight? I, uh, can't. I'm meant to be meeting Alya."

"No? I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

He was probably right, and part of her was tempted. The other part was terrified. Outside of billboards and magazines, Marinette hadn't seen Adrien since his last - and first 'official' - birthday party. Marinette, along with the rest of her class, had been one of the lucky invitees. The bash had been lavish and spectacular, as expected of something organised by Paris' most famous fashion mogul. And between the cameras, celebrity guests and an inconveniently timed akuma, it had also been impossible to actually speak with Adrien.

Marinette sighed. "No, I really can't. She's been going on all week about this announcement she has. And she keeps sending me cryptic messages. I think she'll explode if she can't get it off her chest."

Nino's expression softened and he smiled fondly. "Yeah, that sounds like her."

"You see how I'm not making fun of you right now?" she told him pointedly. "That's what makes me a good friend."

"The best." He grinned.

They sat, enjoying the autumn air and sunshine, and Marinette worked up the courage to bring the topic back around.

Absently, she began plucking at the grass stems beside her. "How is he? Is he… good?"

"He's still single, if that's what you mean."

Her cheeks burned. " _Nino_."

He smiled apologetically. "Yeah, he's good. Nothing much has changed."

She relaxed slightly, letting go of a tension she hadn't known she was carrying. Marinette willed her heart not to flutter. She missed seeing him, the _real_ him. Adrien was gorgeous, there was no doubt. But that was never what had drawn her to him. Instead, it was his genuine empathy and quiet, dignified demeanour; his rare, sweet smiles; his kind eyes.

She loved his eyes.

Before she could get too carried away, the bell rang. They packed away their lunches, Nino shouldering his bag with a dejected groan.

As they started walking he turned to her. "What room?"

"We're in the Agreste wing today."

They both paused.

"Nope." Nino said. "Still weird."

"I thought we'd be used to it by now."

"I don't think the novelty is ever wearing off. It's a good thing Adrien convinced his dad to let him go to Stanislas. He would've hated it. Not to mention, he doesn't even _like_ design. The only reason his dad wanted him here was because it was the same school _he_ went to." Nino was getting worked up again. The topic of Gabriel Agreste always seemed to set him off.

Marinette knew the man could be strict, but she still admired him as a businessman and designer (and maybe also as the father of the boy she liked). "Well, it was still nice of Mr. Agreste to support the school even though his son isn't enrolled."

"Yeah," Nino muttered darkly as they crossed into the hall, "He's all heart."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the feedback on the last chapter! I'm very excited to continue with this project. Also very worried I'll be lynched for breaking up DJ WiFi (I have a plan, I swear!).
> 
> I just want to take a moment to emphasise that this is a paced fic, so while I do intend to address the questions raised in the first chapter, it is going to take a while to get there. In the meantime, I hope you can still get some enjoyment from this short scene.
> 
> Thank you again. As always, all comments and criticism are welcome. Be aware that I might cry though (from happiness that someone reviewed).


	3. Chapter 3

Alya was seated at a little two-person table placed right beside the broad windows, the light catching at the red tones in her hair. She wasn't looking at the setting sun, though. She was lounging back in her seat, fingers tapping away at the phone in her hands. A steaming mug of coffee lay untouched before her.

Marinette made her way over. She dropped her backpack beside the chair and placed her hot chocolate on the table, before flopping down with a relieved groan. Alya snorted as she put her phone away.

"Girl, you sound like my grandma."

"I've met your grandma," Marinette returned from her boneless sprawl. "That's a compliment."

Alya stirred her drink. "She is pretty amazing. No one else is as simultaneously endearing and terrifying as Granny."

"What? She's not terrifying."

"Oh, she is," Alya raised an eyebrow. "But only to her enemies."

This time it was Marinette's turn to snort. She lifted her head enough to smile at her friend before deciding it was too much effort and flopping back.

There was a sympathetic hum from across the table. "Bad day?"

At the concern in her tone, Marinette attempted to rearrange herself like a somewhat functional human being. She took a sip from her drink, hoping it would help. "Not really. Lots of homework, mostly."

"No surprise there." Alya was shaking her head. "That school is crazy. And you were barely keeping up in _collége_. I don't know how you manage to do it but girl, you amaze me."

"Thanks." It didn't matter how long they'd been friends, Alya's praise always made Marinette feel a little bashful. "It's nice to know I have a fan."

"That's me, founding member of the Marinette fan club," the taller girl grinned, "And speaking of fan clubs, aren't you going to ask how _I_ am?"

"I already know how you are," Marinette pulled out her phone. " 'Girl, I can't wait to see you', 'Mari, I'm dying', 'You'll never believe—"

Alya slammed her hands down on the table. "Well, put that away, because now you have the real thing," she exclaimed, "And guess what! I'm going to be on TV! I've had an offer for a live interview on _Noir sur Blanc_ next week."

"An interview? What?" Marinette blinked. "Why?"

"They're doing a piece on Ladybug and they asked me to come as an expert," she leaned in, "An _expert_ , Mari."

Ladybug. Of course.

With skill born of practice, Marinette pushed down the natural unease that blossomed whenever her friend's obsession with the polka-dotted heroine came up. She smiled almost reflexively.

"Alya, that's great!"

"It's more then great, girl! This is the final step to making it serious. It's been a long time coming. With this kind of publicity I'll be able to get more funding for the blog, hopefully some new equipment, some upgrades—"

The excited girl cut herself off, turning her focus back to her friend. "I haven't told anyone else yet. I wanted you to be the first to know."

"Thanks," Marinette said carefully, "but isn't it a bit sudden?"

Alya looked sheepish. "Well, they contacted me about a week ago. One of their previous guests couldn't make it, but they said they were doing a report on Ladybug and wanted my extensive experience."

"Why do they even care about Ladybug?"

"Why wouldn't they care? Ladybug and Chat Noir are heroes. Who wouldn't want to celebrate that?"

"Celebrate what?" Marinette frowned, "Paris is pretty much the same as when they started."

Alya looked at her like she'd just kicked a puppy and laughed afterwards.

"I just mean," Marinette almost stumbled under the disapproving gaze, "you know, Papillon is still around and—"

Alya took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Okay. Mari, you know I love you and I know you've never really been a fan of Ladybug or superheroes, but you are not giving them enough credit. Ladybug and Chat protect the entire city from a madman who never shows his face. We would all be royally screwed without them."

Marinette held her tongue. Alya was right: without the power to dispel akuma, Paris would be in a lot worse condition than it was now. Besides, there was no arguing with Alya when she got onto a topic she was passionate about.

" _Anyway_ ," the star-to-be continued, "part of the reason I'm so excited is because I'm allowed to bring one person with me to the studio. _Despite_ your traitorous leanings, I want you to come along."

"O-of course!" Marinette smiled at her friend.

"No need to look so nervous. It's not like you're the one being broadcast globally."

"Globally?!"

"Well, streamed, really," Alya clarified.

She wasn't really sure how she felt about her story being shown to the wider world. Come to think of it, it was something she should probably have considered before now.

"But hey, it's Friday, girl. Loosen up! Get excited."

"Sure," Marinette said, pushing away her discomfort, "I am _super_ excited for my bakery shift tomorrow."

"You can put that sarcasm away," Alya grinned as she leaned in, "Because I have something that will definitely excite. You will not _believe_ what happened with Kim and Alix this week."

Marinette took a sip of her no-longer-hot chocolate and let the rhythm of her friend's chatter block out everything else.

* * *

 

It was dark in her room, with the exception of the soft blue light washing over her face. She sat up in bed, arms hugging her legs to ward off the cold as she peered over her knees at her phone.

"It's changed," said Tikki from her place on Marinette's shoulder.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd looked at the blog. Despite the fact that her best friend was the creator, Marinette had never been able to play the part of an avid Ladyblogger. She already experienced all the fights firsthand, disliked looking at the pictures, and she had no need to theorise on who she was. Thankfully, Alya had never resented Marinette's lack of interest in her hobby.

She still felt guilty, though. Alya often complained about the many issues she dealt with as her project expanded. Marinette listened, but she was never comfortable contributing to the discussions or theories. It felt too much like lying.

"Here it is!"

Tikki had scrolled down to find an article announcing the upcoming interview. The timestamp on it was listed at exactly one minute after she and Alya had parted ways earlier. True to her word, she'd waited to tell Marinette first. She must have been sitting on the already written article all evening. Marinette couldn't help but smile at her friend's dedication.

She smothered a yawn, "What do you think, Tikki?"

"There's no danger in going," the little kwami smiled, "It could be interesting!"

Marinette nodded, absently scrolling down further. There were thousands of posts on the site. Hundreds of people sitting at their computers, thinking, writing, talking about her. She didn't really want to consider that either.

The page went on and on: praise, speculation and criticism all blurring into one giant stream of thought.

A tiny paw touched her hand. Tikki looked up to her with her large blue eyes. "You've done a lot for them, you know."

A sheet of guilt washed over Marinette as she recalled what she'd said earlier that evening. Marinette cupped Tikki in one hand, bringing her closer.

" _We've_ done a lot," she agreed, "We have."

The little kwami didn't respond. She watched Marinette, seemingly searching for something. She must have found it because after a moment she flitted off, bouncing onto a nearby pillow.

Marinette turned back to look at the post on which she'd stopped.

'Latest akuma defeat sets new record!'

She stared at the title. Then she clicked off the phone and waited for sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I am really not happy with this chapter. I feel it's getting it's message across pretty clumsily, but I know I have to move on past it if I want to continue. I guess for now it'll have to suffice.
> 
> Also, in my headcanon Granny Cesaire is the shit. She is one of those cool 'free-spirit' Grannies who basically gives no fucks. People think it's because she's old, but she's always been this way. She encourages Alya in all her shenanigans and plots. Totally covers for her when she sneaks out. She was a spy in the war so her idea of 'dangerous behaviour' does not really match up to that of other adults. Granny is also stubborn as hell, so don't make her cross.


	4. Chapter 4

Monday morning found Marinette at her desk, rubbing at her eyes in the vain hope that it might make the text in front of her clearer, but no matter how she tried to focus, the words would not stick in her head. Frowning, she began muttering them to herself in a way that Nino had once described as "creepily like a demonic incantation". Marinette bent her head closer to the paper, only to jump when a large hand descended on her shoulder.

"Mari, he wants to see you."

It was Nino. She barely had time to blink up at him before he was moving around the desk to settle into his usual spot.

"Good morning to you too," she rubbed at her face.

Her friend stared at her, as if waiting for something, before his gaze slid to her lap.

"Studying before class?"

"Yes."

"What is it today?"

"That chapter on— hey!" He grabbed the book out of her hands and her sleep addled brain was too slow to stop it. He unceremoniously tossed it over one shoulder. It hit the ground somewhere behind him with a thump and an ominous crinkle. Marinette glared.

"If that is damaged _in any way_ then you can just forget about today's tomato and onion tart."

"Mari, I never thought I'd say this, but this is more important than tarts. I don't think you heard me before," he grabbed her shoulders. "He _wants_ to _see_ you."

She glanced towards the front of class, where their teacher was shuffling some papers around on his desk. "Mr. Tiboussousis?"

His hands left her shoulders. " _Adrien_."

For a brief, perfect second, she was calm. Then those three unassuming little syllables snapped together in her brain. A thrill rose up from her stomach to her throat. She'd entirely forgotten that the two of them had met last week.

Her hands fluttered between them. "Nino!"

He watched her smugly. "Yes?"

She latched onto the collar of his shirt, dragging him closer. His expression morphed from smug to panic. " _Nino_ , what did you _do_?!"

"Nothing! I did nothing!"

"If you said _anything_ —"

"No!" He widened his eyes, trying to appear as innocent as possible. " _He_ mentioned _you_! I mean sure, we were just reminiscing a bit, and I may have brought up the topic—"

" _Nino!_ "

"— _but_ he specifically asked after you. _And_ he suggested we should meet up sometime."

She let him go. " _We_?"

"Y'know, the old gang."

She crossed her arms. He winced. "Okay, so earlier I might have let my flair for the dramatic get the best of me."

She gazed pointedly over his shoulder at her abused book. "You don't say?"

"Look, Marinette, I know you're nervous and you've been avoiding him—"

"No, I haven't!"

"—but this isn't just for you. He misses people. Real people, who know the real him. And I'm not saying he's about to propose but it's a chance, right? He wants to connect."

She frowned. _Have I been avoiding him? How can I have been avoiding him if I haven't even had a chance to see him?_

"So, will you?"

_Well, there's a chance right here…_

She sighed. "I'm bringing Alya."

He opened his mouth to speak.

"You _did_ say 'the old gang'. So, I'm bringing her. That's the deal," she said, tone slightly challenging. "I know you guys still talk, so it shouldn't be a problem."

"No," Nino grinned, "Not a problem at all."

* * *

Marinette considered that, upon reflection, it was probably a good thing she didn't have many friends.

Because if she put as much thought into making new friends as she had into meeting Adrien, then there was no way she'd ever get anything done. She liked to think that she'd matured, that she'd learned to handle all the stressors in her life much better. Apparently she'd been deluding herself, because all it took was the threat of one casual meeting with a boy she'd liked in _collége_ and her usual meticulous schedule was out the window.

She blamed her overactive imagination. It had been plaguing her with creative scenarios for just how badly things could go wrong. She tried to throw herself into her homework to escape it, only to have to revise it all after daydreaming halfway through. She committed all her energy to patrol, only to start reminiscing on every time the two of them had ever interacted, snapping out of it when her feet hit her balcony on the route home. Sleep was a whole other nightmare.

But she was determined to be adult about it. She would go into this with as little expectations as possible, despite Nino's encouragements. She'd be happy if she could manage at least one conversation without embarrassing herself. She had until Friday to prepare.

The week steadily passed and Marinette maintained that she was _not_ panicking. Nevertheless, when an akuma finally hit on Thursday afternoon, it was with some relief that she escaped the classroom and Nino's suggestive language of eyebrow movements to go and deal with it.

Her own eyebrows sat (where they should be) low over her eyes as she kneeled upon the rooftops. Her eyes felt gritty and she blinked a few times to clear them as she scrutinised the latest akuma to prowl the Paris streets. Perhaps the irritation was due to the glare coming off the akuma's costume.

The villain was easy to spot. She was dressed in bright, blinding white from her prim, delicate headpiece to her legging clad feet. In her hand she wielded an overlarge spray bottle that seemed to hold an infinite amount of liquid, and around her belt hung a chain of pretty glass baubles that glittered in the sun.

So far she'd mostly been yelling about cleanliness and had caught a few citizens in some sort of capture spell, but there was no property damage or roaming minions, which was always nice.

Ladybug rubbed at her eyes. Maybe she'd have time for an early night tonight, if the akuma proved to be easy. And if she ignored her assignments. And the work she was missing right now.

She sighed.

Chat Noir landed on the roof beside her.

"Almost radiant, isn't she?" he said, peering down at the villain. "At least it makes her easy to spot." 

Then his green eyes fixed on her. "Not that she compares to you, of course."

With the ease of long practice, Ladybug bypassed his usual flattery to focus on the matter at hand.

"She calls herself 'Bleach Bond'," she said, and Chat moved to crouch at her side. "Capture type. She's freezing people in place with the spray bottle."

He surveyed the scene. "Their clothes turn white? Well, it's nice of her to leave a trail for — wait." He blinked. "Are those 'frozen people's' heads still moving?"

His ears twitched back, his expression one of squeamish fascination. She looked on with a slight smile. "Well, the spray only affects clothes. The people inside remain conscious."

"Huh. That makes for an odd image. So, where's the akuma?"

"In the bottle," she said, standing.

Chat followed, twirling his baton. "Then I guess it's time to take her to the cleaners."

Ladybug just sighed, rubbing at her temple and hoping this would all be over quickly.

* * *

They decided to go with the usual plan: Chat would attack head on, distracting the target, while Ladybug moved in from behind to lasso the infected object straight out of their opponent's hand. It was a tactic that had worked well for them over the years, playing to both their strengths and ending the fights before they really began.

Ladybug swung her yoyo. She zipped over to a nearby chimney as Chat used his baton to vault himself closer to the fracas. The villain was working her way through another crowd. From her vantage point Ladybug could see the slow sapping of colour from those unlucky enough to get caught within range of her blast.

"You won't be able to dirty it now," she was shouting hysterically, "Not if you can't move!"

A black-clad figure landed before her. "You know, this isn't really the place to go airing your dirty laundry."

Their opponent imperiously reached a hand out towards him. "Chat Noir! Give me your Miraculous."

He smiled. "My apologies, _mademoiselle._  We've only just met. You're all in white, but isn't it a bit soon to be asking for a ring?"

The akuma rushed towards him. Ladybug followed along on the rooftops. Yoyo spinning, she waited for the right moment, the right angle to rip the infected object away. She moved closer and closer to the edge. As she raised her arm for the shot, a cry came up from below.

"Ladybug! It's Ladybug!"

The akuma spun towards her. The heroine groaned in frustration as their plan went up in smoke.

Below, the frozen citizens called out to her. Usually the residents of Paris fled the scene, or were kept otherwise occupied. She supposed there was a downside with that came with every set of powers. There wasn't much she could do for them at the moment. They were encased until the akuma was purified.

Giving up the hope of a surprise, the heroine swung down to join her partner. She was careful to keep out of the luckily short range of the akuma's spray bottle. The cheers and pleading from their captive audience grew louder. One particularly panicked individual was struggling so hard in his cement suit that he'd managed to get it rocking from side to side with the weight of his head alone. It was pretty impressive, actually.

"Ladybug! You finally show yourself. Why don't I do you a favour and clean up that old costume for you? And in payment I'll take—"

A jab from Chat drew her attention back to him. "Sorry, these suits are dry clean only."

The villain growled and Chat moved in.

Ladybug stepped to the side to try and flank her. It brought her closer to the crowd, which thankfully seemed to have learned from their earlier mistake. The only exception being the one man still struggling against his suit. He was rocking back and forward franticly. Attention forwards, she didn't see him topple, but there was a _clonk_ and a soft _oof_ as he hit pavement.

Bleach Bond must have heard it too, because she pivoted towards them and her face contorted in rage.

"No!" she screeched.

She charged. Ladybug dodged aside but the akuma continued past, moving forward with startling speed. Too fast.

_She won't be able to stop._

Spinning the yoyo for momentum, she let it fly. It hooked around the prone man, jerking him out of the warpath just in time. The akuma charged through the space, only stopping when she met with a sandstone wall. Large bricks, which had probably stood solid for hundreds of years, crumpled inwards.

_So much for no property damage._

As their opponent extricated herself, the heroine laid the man safely aside, propping him against a building. His eyes were wide and terrified. "Please don't leave me."

"We're doing what we can, _monsieur_. Please stay quiet. It'll be dealt with shortly."

"What's the plan?" Chat asked from her back.

Ladybug eyed the sizeable dent in the brick wall warily. "We have to move her away from the civilians."

Before he could respond, the akuma dragged herself from the rubble. She turned to them with an angry hiss. "You'll ruin it. You'll ruin it!"

She was glaring at the man they had moved. Ladybug and Chat Noir exchanged alarmed glances.

"Cataclysm!"

Chat slapped his hand against the building. A cascade of bricks fell downward, forming a barrier between himself and their opponent, blocking the line of sight. The man still propped behind him whimpered.

At the same time, Ladybug jumped, using her weapon to fling a pot plant from a nearby balcony towards their adversary. Bleach Bond dodged the plant but not the yoyo following it. It hit her centre forehead. Eyes now on Ladybug, she stepped forward, scowling.

"So slow. How do you expect to keep Paris clean like this?" Ladybug challenged. She turned and ran, the akuma hot on her heels.

She ducked and weaved through the smaller side streets and alleys of the pedestrian area, trying to lead away from bystanders. Eventually, she broke out by the side of the Seine. The wide expanse of the river canal stretched before her.

Ladybug put a hand to the railing, trying to even her breathing. She shouldn't be this tired. Bleach Bond stormed in behind her.

Apparently, the villain had calmed enough for full sentences. She smirked as Ladybug turned to face her. A white hand went behind her back. "Let's see how well you clean up."

Ladybug's yoyo shot out, aiming low. It wrapped around an ankle as her opponent held out a glass bauble. Ladybug pulled, but not before it was lobbed toward her. She tried to retract her yoyo, but knew she wouldn't move in time.

A streak of silver came spinning in from the side, knocking the glittering sphere off course. The ball sailed upward, before reaching it's zenith somewhere between the two women and tumbling back down gracefully. Abruptly, Bleach Bond started scrambling backwards.

"Lady!"

Ladybug hurled herself away. She had no plan. Instinct threw her towards the canal railing. The world spun as she flipped towards it. Her feet touched the bannister the same time as the ball smashed against the pavement. Tinkling glass was followed by a _fwoomp_. A giant cloud expanded outward. Before it could reach her, the preceding gust of displaced air knocked her back. Ladybug slipped off the railing and into the Seine.

She didn't have time to think much of anything between noticing the lack of substance beneath her feet and the initial icy shock. The river was cold, already chill with autumn, and the suddenness of it was like a punch to the gut. The shock stole the remaining air from her lungs. It was only by watching the last of the her escaping breath that she was able to figure out which way to go in the murky underwater world. She kicked up to the surface.

It thinned as she got closer, until she could see the greenish sky as it warped above her head. The image shattered like a stained glass picture when she broke through. She greedily dragged in the breath she'd forgotten to take with her as she fell, the long gasp dissolving into sputters when some river water was inhaled with the air. She spat it back out, trying not to think about where the taste came from. The Seine ran through the heart of the metropolis. It wasn't especially known for being clean.

Ladybug grimaced. Her eyes traced up the steep sides of the canal. With water up to her neck, it was doubtful she'd be able to swing the yoyo at an angle that would clear the sides. Luckily, she didn't have to worry about her conundrum for long, as a black blur splashed down upstream with something that sounded suspiciously like a yowl.

The creature that surfaced was more hair than face. A clawed hand carefully combed the blond mop away from his eyes.

"I thought cats hated water," she said as he paddled closer.

"That's true, but they do occasionally go fishing." He was entirely too cheerful for someone who'd just dunked himself in the filthiest water in Paris.

"Are you calling me a fish?"

"No! No, more like… a mermaid?" He tried, "Or a siren?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Creatures that lead sailors to their deaths?"

"I'm hoping you like me enough not to drown me," he said as he reached her.

He placed his arm about her waist, bringing her to his side as he pulled out his baton. She'd forgotten just how cold the water was until she felt the heat pressed against her. She suppressed her shivers, hooking her arm over his shoulders and trying to resist leaning into his warmth.

Chat extended his baton down into the murky water. His grip tightened. "Hold on."

She held firmly as they rose. Heavy and slow at first, limbs raining with waterfalls that turned into rivulets and then droplets as they approached the bannister at speed. Once they'd surpassed it Chat tilted them forward and they seesawed over the railing and back onto the pavement.

Ladybug looked around as they separated. Obviously the villain had moved on, and she couldn't say she was unhappy with that. As they were, they made for a pretty unimpressive sight, dripping with water and a slime that she sincerely hoped was algae. You couldn't tell so much with Chat - either the colour or the denser material of his suit didn't show much of anything - but Ladybug's lighter costume was decorated with amorphous brown splotches.

She lifted an arm to wring out her dripping pigtails and was treated to a whiff of what was presumably the source of colour. She shuddered.

"Don't worry. It's bad, but from experience it'll only last a week or two."

She wrinkled her nose. "I don't remember you smelling after the Princess Fragrance incident."

"Enhanced senses," he explained. "Occasionally, it's — wait, you notice how I smell?"

"I noticed that you didn't smell any worse than usual."

"So, that's a yes?"

His miraculous beeped angrily at him. He only had one pad left.

"Go recharge, _chaton,_ " she said, unable to stop a slight shiver as a breeze brushed over her wet suit. "We can discuss your odours later."

He sighed. "It sounds bad when you say it like that."

* * *

They caught up with Bleach Bond at the park. It was a bit too close to home for Ladybug to be comfortable with, especially as she noted an elderly neighbour frozen in amongst a group by the fountain.

On a nearby roof, she and Chat assessed the scene. Ladybug palmed her yoyo, trying to keep her breathing steady. It had been a while since a fight had lasted so long. She felt more winded by their dash across the city than she ought to.

"We can't risk her using another bomb. We'll have to make this quick."

Chat nodded, understanding written across his face as he gave her some room.

"Lucky Charm!"

Within a heartbeat, a piece of red and black materialised above her, tumbling down into her open hand. _Well, this is a new one_.

"A _sock_?" Chat asked, "How is that meant to hamper her?"

Ladybug focused. This time the spinning of her mind wasn't from exertion. Her eyes darted around, searching. They caught the villain, the victims, the fountain. She looked at her grimy uniform, and the fluffy red sock clutched in her grip.

"I have a plan."

He spun his staff. "Just tell me where you want her."

"Actually, this time I'll be the one to fight. We need her angry, and you're not nearly as filthy as I am." She extended her hand. "Here."

Chat plucked the sock from her hesitantly. "What do I…"

She pointed. He nodded and Ladybug turned away.

Just before she leapt, Chat called out. "Wait!"

She turned back. He gave her a cheeky grin. "Sock it to her."

If only to get away from his jokes, she jumped off the roof. On the ground, her miraculous chimed its first warning. This had to be fast. There was no point in being subtle.

"Hey!" she yelled, "I think you missed a spot."

Maybe Chat's humour was rubbing off on her more than she thought.

Bleach Bond whirled towards her, only to gape at the sodden state of her uniform. A slow, red rage climbed up those porcelain cheeks. "You—! You're disgusting!"

Bottle raised, the villain sprayed but she was too far.

"Seems like you still need some target practice."

With a growl the white flurry charged. Ladybug dived away as a burst of speed closed the distance between them. She dived from the next charge as well, keeping herself on the other side of the fountain, just out of range.

She watched carefully. As soon as the villain's gloved hand twitched towards her bombs, she moved. Ladybug hopped up onto the lip of the fountain, just within range of the spray bottle.

At the Seine, they'd both evaded the bomb. Her plan hinged on the fact that Bleach Bond wouldn't be able to use the explosives in close quarters because her powers would affect them both.

Balancing on the lip of the fountain, trying to tempt her foe closer with her (mostly) red suit, Ladybug felt somewhat like a matador.

Her miraculous beeped. _Three minutes_ , she thought, glancing sideways at the flash of a tail disappearing behind a tree. In that slight moment of distraction, Bleach Bond moved, stepping onto the opposite rim, shooting close enough that Ladybug had to spin away. She landed awkwardly, one foot in the water.

The white-clad girl grinned. "I've got you now."

She shot twice in succession. Ladybug evaded the twin streams but was pushed further in, slowed by the weight of the water at her feet. Stepping confidently over the lip, the akuma followed.

_Chat, now._

Two more shots headed her way. Ladybug danced around them as her opponent closed the gap.

_Chat!_

She ducked low under the next spray, stumbling slightly. Then she heard the _tsshh_ of the bottle and threw herself down blindly. Water swept in and around her hips.

She looked up. Bleach Bond stood before her. Her bottle was levelled at Ladybug, a smug grin staining her features. "Looks like you're all washed up."

Ladybug smirked. "Looks like you've stepped in something."

"What?" the villain looked down. The water of the fountain had turned a cloudy red, the colourful dye slowly seeping up her pristine white leggings. A polka-dotted sock floated past.

"Don't you know you're not meant to mix reds and whites?" Ladybug kicked out with both feet, sending a wave of tainted water over the other woman.

The akuma screamed, dashing from the fountain and scrabbling at her spray bottle. She sprayed her legs and torso, quickly returning them to white. As the splotches cleared, she moved to her arms, only to find herself unable to do so, her costume having stiffened in place.

The red returned to her face. Whether anger for being bested or embarrassment for her mistake, it didn't matter.

Ladybug's miraculous beeped.

Struggling but unable to move, their opponent glared. "You—!"

The bottle was still in her hand. She tried to spray it, fighting against her gloves. Ladybug grinned as she struggled.

"Not just me," she said.

A black-clad arm reached from behind the villain to pluck it away.

"Sorry to put a wrinkle in your plans," he said jovially, "but we are a bit pressed for time."

He tossed the bottle to her and she caught it easily. She smashed it against the ground, and from there it was just a matter of routine.

The white butterfly flew off into the sky.

"You should change before you catch a cold," Chat said after their traditional fistbump. He gestured to her still dripping suit.

She grimaced. _Poor Tikki._

Her miraculous beeped. Although it was indistinguishable from any of the previous chimes, Ladybug felt a sense of urgency with it.

She unhooked her yoyo. "You might be bigger than me now, _chaton_ , but that doesn't mean I need you fussing over me."

"I wouldn't presume, my lady. But if you do get sick then I'd be happy to nurse you back to health."

She snorted but didn't retort. There was no time for chitchat.

Still, as she swung away she heard him call out. "And I was _always_ bigger than you!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so now I feel like we're actually moving somewhere, And speaking of moving, I'm sorry for the long wait between chapters. I've recently moved country and am still trying to get my life in order. It just means I won't be able to keep updates regular, but they'll still come. I have over 11,000 words written so far, so stick around.
> 
> Tidbit: Chat was actually incredibly panicked when Ladybug fell into the water. He thought she'd been hit by the powder, her suit freezing in place and preventing her from swimming. He dived in without a second thought, but luckily Ladybug surfaced as he was mid-fall. That she's okay is a big part of why he's so happy and doesn't really notice the cold.


	5. Chapter 5

They met at the park by their old school. It was the same park they'd fought in yesterday. Adrien sat and watched the fountain, its flowing water as crystal clear as always.

He was the first to arrive, which wasn't surprising. The moment his schedule had been cleared for the afternoon, he'd slipped away. He didn't mind hiding in the green and relatively empty park. To pass the time he sat on the bench, examining the homes around him. It was often how he amused himself on solo patrols: gazing at the lighted windows, conjuring up families and stories to fill them.

"How long are you going to sit here moping?"

"I'm not moping, I'm waiting." Adrien frowned. "And be careful! Someone could see you."

Plagg rolled his eyes, ignoring the warning to hover around the bench. Adrien wondered why he bothered trying. The brash kwami never listened to him.

He looked up when he heard voices nearby. A black blur darted into his satchel just as Nino entered the park. Adrien's friend was walking backwards, chatting with the pair of girls following behind him. He studied the two as they approached, struck by how much and how little had changed.

Alya was taller. She was also one of those people whose natural confidence gave her an appearance of maturity. If he hadn't know her personally, it might have been hard to pin down her age. He wondered how else she'd changed, thinking that she might not be the same Alya he remembered, but a closer look quickly dismissed that assumption. She still had the same obstinate tilt to her jaw; the same candid enthusiasm in her expression.

A few steps behind her walked Marinette. Adrien vividly remembered the girl who'd been such a large part of his school experience: she'd been class president, had won several competitions, had been active and involved in everything their class had done. He'd admired her a lot. She'd often seemed distracted when he spoke with her, but she'd always made time for him. 

He was surprised to note that outwardly she hadn't changed much at all. She hadn't grown much, and the height disparity between her and Alya was one of the biggest visual changes. She was paler than he remembered, though that could have been the effect of the thick black jacket she had on. She had her hands in the pockets, with the pink bag that had been her signature accessory slung over one shoulder.

Nino stopped and looked around, waving as he spotted Adrien on the bench. Adrien stood as they made their way over. He felt the eyes of the girls on him and had to stop himself from adjusting his clothes, hoping nothing was amiss. Logically, he knew they wouldn't be judging his presentation, but by now he was so used to it, it was practically reflex. He told himself they would just be reminiscing the same way he had. He supposed he and Nino would look different as well, although Adrien was unable to see it.

Alya whistled as they got closer.

"Adrien Agreste, I can't believe it. I'd say you haven't changed, but then I'd be lying," She quirked an eyebrow at him. "Are you wearing a _du Maître_ coat?"

Adrien smiled self-consciously, sweeping his palms down the front of his coat. So much for trying not to overdress.

"It's great to see you again," he said. "I'm so glad you guys could come."

"Are you kidding? We wouldn't miss it for anything. Right, Marinette?"

The other girl blinked up at him, offering a slightly strained smile. "Uh, hi, Adrien."

"Hi, Marinette."

"You, ah… you look healthy."

Oh. What should he say to that? "Thank you?"

"Why don't we get a move on?" Nino interrupted. "I wanna get to the cafe before it gets dark."

"It's not too far, is it?" Alya asked.

"About fifteen minutes."

She turned to Adrien as they left the park. "It's good your schedule was free."

"Yeah," he agreed, ignoring Nino's muttered 'It's a miracle'. "I usually have fencing practice Fridays, but my instructor's gone to judge the regional competitions."

"You still fence?"

"And model."

"I know that part," she grinned, pointing out his poster on a nearby bus stop.

"Oh." He felt his cheeks heat up. "Right."

He glanced over at Nino hoping for a save but his friend was watching Marinette, who walked a little behind.

"Hey, Adrien," Alya asked, drawing his attention again. "You like Ladybug, right?"

He almost tripped. " _What?_ "

There was a snicker from his satchel. To cover it, he cleared his throat.

"I think I remember you were a fan back in _collége_."

"Yeah, I mean… a little. I guess so."

"Seen the Ladyblog recently?"

 _Yes._ "No."

"Well, you should! I'm doing an interview on Sunday night for _Noir sur Blanc_. They're presenting a piece on Ladybug! If you're a fan then it's a must see."

"I think Alya is planning to steal the show," Nino said.

She started shaking her head, then abruptly stopped. "Actually, you know what, yes I am. And Nino, I need your help scheming. You've been on TV before, right? Can you give me some advice?"

Before the boy could answer, she took Nino firmly in hand and pulled them both ahead, only stopping to whisper something to Marinette as she moved by. Nino shot Adrien a slightly panicked look. Adrien smiled as he fell back to accompany his old schoolmate.

She seemed deep in thought, her brow furrowed, not really focusing ahead of her. He wondered what she was thinking about. Should he interrupt?

"So, how've you been?" he asked, followed by an immediate mental groan. _C'mon, Agreste. Surely you can come up with something better than that._

Marinette looked up at him, blinking a few times as if to check her vision. "What?"

"Ah, how have you been? I mean, how's _lycée_?"

"Oh. It's fine," she said. "A little tiring, but fine." There was a slight flush to her cheeks. "Sorry, I shouldn't— I mean, it's not that I should complain. Not when you still have all the—" She gestured towards all of him. " _Stuff_ that you do."

"Why not? Nino's always complaining about the courses you guys do. And that's in addition to all the core subjects. I think it's hard for anyone to adjust to." He gave a little self depreciating laugh. "As for me, Stanislas is so different to Francois-Dupont. The school is nothing like I thought it would be."

"Do you ever regret it?" she asked. "Choosing to go to school?"

Adrien looked ahead. Alya and Nino moved at their own pace. Whatever they were talking about, they were both clearly invested in it. Their hands rose and fell in broad gestures. It was something like a duet. Adrien smiled.

"Never," he said as he turned back to her, "Not in the least because I got to meet so many amazing people. Like Nino and Alya and you."

The flush on her face was more pronounced. As they lapsed into silence, Adrien fished around for something to say. She was quieter than he remembered. Nino had mentioned that she didn't have many friends at school. He hadn't believed it of the friendly, if somewhat eccentric girl. He wondered if the change was due to time or circumstance.

She stared at the ground ahead, her steps a little unsteady. The boots she was wearing had low heels; he guessed she was concentrating on keeping her balance on the cobblestones. Taking a closer look, he noticed that the shoes looked new. He didn't recognise the brand.

Marinette hunched her shoulders slightly and Adrien realised he was staring.

Tucking his hands into in his pockets, he fixed his gaze forward. Nino turned and waved from up ahead, gesturing right. Adrien waved back, hoping their momentary awkwardness didn't show. He knew Nino wanted them to be friends. Heck, _Adrien_  wanted them to be friends. He fished around for a new topic, but was distracted as they headed onto one of the low pedestrian pathways that ran alongside the Seine. Although it was a completely different area from yesterday, the sight of the river brought him back to her.

_What would it be like to walk here with Ladybug…_

Adrien shook himself away from the selfish thought.

Marinette was also examining the river. She was shivering.

"Are you cold?" he asked, somewhat excited to have something to talk about. She pulled her coat tighter around her body, drawing her shoulders up to her neck.

"A little," she said, her teeth chattering. "I forgot to bring a scarf."

He unwrapped his own, pulling it out from under his coat.

"Here." He offered it to her.

She stopped. She didn't take the scarf, only stared at it. He glanced at it briefly. It was old, sure. It'd been a birthday present from his father. But it was his favourite scarf, warm and well-made, and he'd taken care of it.

"No, I- I can't," she said.

He leant forward, pressing it into her hand. "It's fine. Please use it."

He watched her run her fingers over the worn fabric. Slowly, she draped it around her neck, tucking her hands into her pockets when she was done. For the first time that day, she met his eyes.

"Thank you."

"No problem."

Nino and Alya had continued on ahead, completely oblivious to what was happening behind them. Adrien shook his head as he sped up. "I think they've forgotten about us. We better catch up before they leave us behind."

His footsteps heavy on the pavement, Adrien watched the two in front of them. Alya and Nino had fallen in together as easily as if nothing had ever changed. There was no sign of tension between them. In the intervening years since their break up, Adrien had never heard Nino refer to Alya with anything but fondness.

"It's a shame, isn't it?" he said. "Alya and Nino."

He was mostly thinking out loud, nevertheless he glanced over to his companion. She looked uncomfortable, lips pursed, face tight.

"I mean, it's great that they're still friends," he said, unsure if he was treading on sensitive ground. "I'd hope that I could remain so close with someone. It's nice, right?"

Marinette stumbled.

Adrien lifted a hand towards her, concerned. She was breathing heavily. Had he been walking too fast?

Her face was still flushed. She shivered, staring at the pavement and swaying in place.

He moved closer. "Marinette? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said. "I'm fine. I'm just going to sit down."

And then she pitched backwards. Adrien jumped. It was only honed reflex that allowed him to catch her in time. It wasn't graceful - he grabbed her under the arms like a child carrying a cat - but it saved her tailbone at least. He carefully lowered her.

"Alya! Nino!"

Looking closer he saw how glassy her eyes were. Her cheeks and the bridge of her nose were bright red. He touched a hand to the side of her face.

"You're burning up." He felt a fluttering panic completely unlike anything he experienced when dealing with an akuma. He had no idea what to do. He'd never taken care of a sick person.

"Alya!" he called, louder.

"I'm coming!" He heard footsteps. "Oh my god, Mari, what happened?"

He shifted away so she could kneel next to her friend. "She just toppled over."

"Alya," Marinette groaned, face scrunching. "Alya, I don't feel so good."

"It's okay, honey. Let's get you up."

It took her and Adrien to lever her up on each side. Her shaking grew worse.

"I'm gonna throw up," she told them.

Adrien floundered. He looked around, wide-eyed. "What do I do?"

"Here, man." Nino picked up the string bag Marinette had dropped and passed it to him. "Hold this. I'll be back in a sec."

"Where are you going?!"

But Nino jogged away, leaving Adrien clutching the little pink bag. Should he get her phone out? Should he call an ambulance? That's what you did when someone collapsed, right? 

Alya was gently guiding Marinette towards the river. "Yeah, that's it. Slow steps."

Before they reached the edge, Marinette began ineffectually tugging at the scarf around her neck.

"Alya!"

"What is it?"

" _Alya!_ "

The taller girl whipped the scarf from her shoulders. "Okay, okay, I've got it!"

Before she even finished speaking, Marinette leant over the balustrade and retched.

It was an awful sound, raw and painful, and Adrien cringed in sympathy. He shifted restlessly, feeling completely and utterly useless. He'd been so blindly caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn't even noticed the poor girl was sick. He was a terrible friend. Marinette threw up again. Adrien felt awful.

Alya stood beside her friend at the railing, rubbing circles on her back.

"That's right, get it all out," she said.

Nino came up from behind, approaching with a bottle of water. He waited until Marinette was finished and passed it to her silently. She used it to wash her mouth, spitting the remains into the Seine. When she was done, her forehead clunked against the railing.

"Are you okay?" Nino asked. "You need anything?"

They were all surprised when she started laughing.

"Disgusting," she said, tears in her eyes. "It's in the river. That's exactly why I didn't want to go swimming!"

Nino looked worried, and Alya threw a pleading look over Marinette's head. "We've got to take her back home."

"Right."

"Nino, are you able to you carry her?"

"Of course."

The taller boy knelt by their friend and Alya coaxed Marinette into flopping against his back. He stood, hooking his arms under her knees.

She brought her arms around his shoulders, looking paler than ever.

"Nino, you're so warm."

"You can say it like it is, Mari. I'm hot stuff."

His cargo seemed to be slightly delirious, because she actually snickered.

"Not as bad as him," she murmured, closing her eyes. "He'll be worried."

"I _am_ worried. I'd appreciate it if you didn't throw up on me."

His only response was an ominous groan. Nino took that as his cue to start walking.

Adrien moved to follow, still clutching Marinette's bag. Alya stepped in front of him, holding out his scarf.

"Here. I think this is yours."

He pushed it back. "Keep it on her. She needs it more than I do."

"Thanks, Adrien. I'm so sorry about this. Marinette's going to feel terrible when she's herself again." She paused. "Well, more terrible than she already does."

He grimaced. "She shouldn't. I'm the one who's terrible. I was walking right beside her and I never even noticed. Please, let me know if I can do anything to help."

To his surprise, Alya hummed.

"Actually," She smiled, a little bit of her old pep returning. "There _is_ something you can do for her."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so who saw this coming?


	6. Chapter 6

The night was dark. Low, swollen clouds obscured any view of the stars. Even the normally twinkling lights of the Paris skyline were muted. Her body was still weak, but she was well enough to swing between rooftops and surveil her city. It felt that she'd been away from it for far too long. It was only a routine patrol, but the buildings seemed strange and new to her.

Somewhat unsurprisingly, she hadn't encountered anyone: the streets lifeless and silent, with only the thud of her feet hitting the roof. Despite being in a city of millions, she felt alone. She found herself wishing Chat were with her. They hadn't met since the previous akuma attack. At the time she had despaired at his terrible puns, but she thought she could have used some humour right now.

Ladybug moved across the quiet houses, paying more attention to her feet than her surroundings. She nearly missed the other figure standing under the night sky. It was movement that drew her out of her thoughts.

She turned, thinking it might be Chat, but then she saw the silhouette. It was not his profile at all: taller and even thinner than her already lean partner. There were no ears on his head, and no tail that she could see. In the poor lighting, she couldn't make out anything more than that, though she thought he might be watching her.

It wasn't unusual. This had never been only her domain. Many people had rooftop gardens and homes, and Ladybug occasionally surprised some of them as she raced through.

She swung to the next building, bringing her closer and giving her a better view. She had been wrong; he wasn't watching her. Actually, he stood, arms dangling at his side, and staring straight up. Ladybug followed his gaze to glance at the threatening clouds overhead. It wasn't exactly a nice night for stargazing.

When she looked back, she almost jumped. The man had moved, now positioned on his neighbour's roof. She squinted, trying to make out the detail on his face. He was still staring at the sky in the same strange way he had been before, yet now the light reflecting off a window fell on the crescent edge of his face, highlighting one added detail: he was smiling. A wide, brittle grin stretched from ear to ear.

Unnerved, Ladybug shifted away before catching herself. She let out a breath she hadn't realised she was holding. The oddness of the man, of his posture and expression, made her uncomfortable, but she knew there were some odd people in Paris. In the end, it wasn't illegal to stand on your roof and look at the sky. She would leave him be and move on.

She turned away, sending her yoyo out to hook around a chimney. A soft noise behind her made her spin back around.

A chill raced down her spine.

He'd gotten closer. He stood two rooftops over, and somehow he'd crossed that distance in only a second. Yet nothing had changed. He still stared. He still smiled. All she could see was the edge of that smile as his head crooked up towards nothing.

She stood, watching him, her heart beating a speedy rhythm in her chest. She couldn't move. She could only hold onto the string of her yoyo with a tighter than usual grip.

He didn't shift. Didn't turn his head. Didn't blink. Didn't _breathe_.

She sucked in a gulp of air. Prickles raced up and down her spine. A voice in her head reassured her.

 _I can take him._ _I'll be fine. I'm a superhero. He won't—_

His head jerked down.

She was frozen. Pinned by shadowed eyes, muscles tense, prepped for something primal she didn't even understand.

He slowly turned.

And walked away.

Ladybug watched the strange, shambling meander back across the rooftops, her hand still clenched around the yoyo's string. And as he disappeared back into the shadows of the building he'd started from, she let out a long and shaky breath, tinged with self-deprecating laughter.

 _I'm an idiot, s_ he thought, bringing her free hand to her head. _It was just a guy. Probably a drunk guy who wanted to gawk at Ladybug._

After a sigh to expel all the dead butterflies from her stomach, she tugged the cord, launching herself to the next building. The soft thump of her feet was a comforting noise, and she threw out her yoyo for the next loop when some strange instinct made her look back.

He was out on the rooftop again.

She frowned.

He was moving.

No, he was running.

He was running _towards_ _her_.

He grew larger. His steps thudded across the rooftops. The distance evaporated between them.

Horrified, she tugged the cord in her hand and shot off the roof with a lurch. He was already close, so close. Pounding towards her, impossibly, he _gained_.

He gained until she could see his wild eyes. His mouth gaping like a black pit. She was too slow. She needed to go faster. She tugged desperately at the cord.

His clawed hand reached out towards her.

Marinette awoke, gasping, drenched in sweat. She felt like she was on fire, her limbs weak and shaky. She slowly uncurled her fist from the phantom yoyo.

"Marinette, you're awake?"

Her mother sat on the edge of the bed. She leaned over and placed her hand to Marinette's cheek. It was blessedly cool.

"Mama?"

"Shhh, _ma petite._ You have a bad fever. We'll give you some medicine and then you can go back to sleep."

"Medicine?"

Marinette's mind felt clunky. Her head hurt and her whole body ached. Spots danced across her vision. Already the tendrils of her dream eluded her. All that remained was the rapid staccato of her heart in her chest.

"I don't want to sleep, Mama."

"Don't worry," her mother assured as she pushed a cup into Marinette's hands. "You'll feel better in the morning."

She wanted to feel better, so Marinette gulped the liquid down. As she laid her head back onto the pillow, her mother hummed a soft tune. Marinette's heartbeat slowed, and she drifted off to sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGE thanks to my Beta DeadyBones for making this chapter work.
> 
> I know it's short (sorry). It sure seems like the world has changed a lot since I last posted. Seems like both the story and real life have gotten a bit darker, haha.
> 
> For anyone who can't tell, this chapter was heavily inspired by the 'The Smiling Man' story from reddit. It always stuck with me. I tried to recreate some of that eerie terror here. Please let me know what you think!


	7. Chapter 7

Marinette groaned as she turned over, her body aching, feeling sweaty and gross. Her eyes cracked open, peering at the shards of daylight that slanted across her bedroom walls. She wasn’t sure how long she might’ve lain there, staring at nothing, if not for Tikki’s gentle voice.

The kwami hovered into sight above her, blue eyes wide with concern. “Marinette? Are you awake?”

It took her a little while to process the words. They sank into her brain like they’d been dropped through honey. Marinette croaked out what she supposed was an answer, pushing herself to sit up against her pillows with protesting muscles.

“What time is it?” she asked, rubbing at her eyes.

Tikki came down to land in her lap. “Sometime after lunch. There’s some soup on your nightstand. Your father brought it in not too long ago.”

Her stomach churned and Marinette groaned, placing her hand there to try and ease the queasiness.

“You should eat,” Tikki insisted. “You haven’t had anything since school yesterday. You need to keep your strength up.”

Marinette blinked. School? When had she…

Abruptly, it all came rushing back: the reunion, the walk, the… end. They’d never even made it to the cafe.

Her stomach turned for an entirely different reason.

“Oh god,” she moaned, placing her head in her hands. “Tikki, I threw up. _In front of_ _him._ I saw him again and I _threw up—_ ”

“Marinette, it’s not that bad. He won’t care.”

With a long, drawn-out groan of both physical and mental misery, Marinette sank back into her bed, pulling the covers up over her head.

“Well, at least you made an impression.” Tikki’s voice came from somewhere outside of her new home. Marinette buried her head in the pillow.

A small weight settled on her hip.

“It’ll be fine. You’ll see,” said Tikki. “Just focus on getting better for now.”

As kind as her words were, they weren’t enough to bring Marinette out of her self-imposed exile within the blankets. What eventually worked was a soft ding from her phone. Clumsily, she pawed at the nightstand.

There was a backlog of messages, the majority of which were from Alya. She absently scrolled through them, stopping at the latest arrival.

It was from an unknown number. The message was someone politely asking after her health. Marinette sucked in a breath. There was only one person besides Nino and Alya who would be texting her about that.

She stared incredulously at the screen.

Tikki smiled. “Why not see what he has to say?”

Marinette hesitated. What would she say? What _could_ she say? What could possibly be an appropriate response to someone you had barely spoken to, but had definitely thrown up in front of? But, much as she was tempted, she couldn’t ignore it. She'd already opened the message, damn it.

With slow fingers Marinette typed an answer, only to erase it after a minute of review. She started again. Then she erased that. And then, mad at her own hesitancy, she hastily typed a new message and hit send before her mind could protest.

The icon dinged and she let out a deep breath, only to jump a second later as the phone buzzed in her hands, a response popping up onscreen.

It read:  
_[I’m really glad you’re feeling better!]_

Followed a second later by:  
_[Oh! This is Adrien, by the way.]_

It wasn’t anything amazing. There was nothing in the message that should cause it, yet a smile threatened to spill across her lips. Marinette reined it in before it got too far. After all this time, all her growing, she was determined not to return to being that besotted fan-girl from two years ago. Marinette still admired Adrien. She was honest enough with herself to admit that.

But she refused to throw her heart at him again. Despite what Nino and Alya might think, she‘d given up on that dream the last day at _college_. She’d watched Adrien leave, waving goodbye, her final attempt at a confession stalled on her tongue.

By that point the reality of their separation, the lack of reciprocal interest on his part, and the indeterminate nature of her future as Ladybug had put the final nail in the coffin of girlhood dreams. This time she would be content to just be around him and not making a fool of herself. Of course, that declaration didn't stop the old ache that came whenever she thought of him.

She may have put the nail in the coffin, she reflected glumly, but she’d never gotten around to actually burying it.

She was distracted from her musings by his message.

 _[Alya’s preparing for her interview. She was worried she couldn’t see you today._  
_She said it would be fine but I wanted to check.  
_ _Is it okay if I stop by?]_

  _WHAT._

Sometimes, the levels of her best friend’s scheming both amazed and frightened her. And though she understood _exactly_ what her friend had been thinking in getting Adrien to agree to this, Alya had certainly been overestimating Marinette’s gratitude for the attempt.

The last thing she wanted was for Adrien to be obliged to come visit her in her stuffy room with her sweaty pyjamas, bed head and a vomit bucket by her side. It was utterly horrifying.

He continued. _[I’m at a shoot right now, but I can come by afterwards?]_

Marinette only just managed to temper her response.

 _[I’m fine! You don’t need to come by.  
__I’m going to be sleeping anyway.  
__Don’t worry about me!]_  

_[Are you sure?]_

_[Yep, I’m fine!]_

_[Okay. Sorry if I woke you.]_

She took a second to breathe in relief. _[You didn’t. I was up anyway. Need to eat since I lost it all, haha]_

_What are you doing?! STOP MARINETTE, STOP!_

She grimaced, almost throwing the phone away from herself in embarrassment.

“Tikki, why do you let me do things?” she beseeched the observing kwami.

Tikki only giggled. As Marinette waited for a response, her stomach slowly sank. Just as she was readying a shamefaced retreat back into her covers, Adrien’s next message came through.

_[Actually, I wanted to apologise.]_

She stared at the phone in confusion. _[For what?]_

[ _For yesterday.  
__I didn’t notice you were ill,  
__And I was no help at all.  
__I’m so sorry. I was such a jerk.]_

 _[No! You don’t have to apologise!  
__I mean, I’m the one who’s sorry!  
__I should have cancelled. Instead I ruined everyone’s night]_  

 _[You didn’t ruin anything, Marinette.  
__It was really great to see you and Alya again.  
__And your parents are always so nice!]_  

_[You saw them?]_

_[Yes, when we dropped you home._  
_They were very worried about you, of course._  
_But they gave us a ton of food from the bakery.  
_ _So in the end Nino, Alya and I went to the park and ate there]_

A prick of disappointment stabbed at her. She quashed the feeling ruthlessly. There was no need to be upset that her friends had had fun without her. Especially when she was the reason everything went so wrong in the first place. She could at least try to pretend she wasn’t _that_ petty.

 _[Well, I’m glad you did something.]_  

_[I feel like I can still taste the quiche, it’s so good!]_

She laughed softly. _[Thanks! I’ll let them know.]_

_[It would’ve been better if you were there too]_

Where earlier there was a prick, suddenly there was a balm. Marinette struggled to control the play of her emotions. She was _over_ this, dammit. She knew from long exposure to Adrien that he was unfailingly nice to everyone. She couldn’t take it as anything special. Adrien was the sort of person who made someone feel special just by looking at them.

 _[We’ll have to go together next time.]_ He wrote.

_[Next time? When’s that?]_

_[Soon, I hope! You still have my scarf.]_

“Scarf?” she murmured. She raised her eyes from her phone to glance around the room. There was no such item. “Oh no. Tikki! What happened to Adrien’s–”

“Don’t worry, Marinette.” She pulled a thin periwinkle scarf from inside the little dollhouse Marinette had constructed for her. “I kept it safe.”

Relieved, the bedridden girl slumped back. “You’re my life saver.”

Tikki nodded. “Well, that _is_ what I’m here for.”

The phone buzzed one last time.

_[I’m sorry, I have to get back to the shoot. Let’s talk again soon!]_

A second or two later, Marinette put the phone down. She took a deep, calming breath. She told herself the illness was wholly responsible for her exhaustion, and that it was not at all caused by her terrible conversation skills.

A minute or so later, she picked the phone up again.

It was time to have a chat with a scheming buddy of hers.

* * *

“So the blue or the black?” Alya held each dress up to the camera.

Marinette tilted her head away from the screen, trying to imagine how each would look on Alya’s full figure. “Black,” she decided. “It’s a classic colour and the cut is better, though I would add a brooch or something for some pop.”

“Got one already picked out!” Alya brought out a little jewelled Ladybug.

“That’ll be great,” Marinette said, mirroring her friend’s proud smile. “What about shoes?”

“I’ll be wearing a pair of my mum’s.” She gathered an assortment of clothes up in her arms. “Okay, hold on while I change,” she said as she trotted off-screen.

A mixture of mumbles and shuffling came through the speakers.

“Alya,” Marinette said, listening for the slight pause in the ruffling that meant she had her friend’s attention. “I’m really sorry. About tomorrow. I wish I could go.”

“Don’t worry about it, girl. Nino will be a taller, less adorable substitute.”

Marinette laughed. “You _say_ that, but we both know he’s at least as adorable as he is tall.”

“And he just keeps _growing_. If that boy gets any taller, I swear...”

Her tone was full of humour and fond exasperation, but Marinette’s smile slowly fell as a memory of yesterday made itself known. Adrien’s voice rang in her head.

_It’s a shame, isn’t it? Alya and Nino._

She frowned.

“Hey,” she began haltingly. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why did you break up with Nino?”

The ruffling stopped.

Alya walked into frame, wearing a sensible but stylish dress with a thin red belt; the jewelled brooch sitting just below her collarbone. Her thick hair had been roughly pinned up in a twist, unruly tendrils escaping to lend an artless grace to the look. She could easily have been mistaken for a young professional.

“Oh! You look _great_ —“

“Woah, woah, woah. Hold on, let’s go back to that question.” Alya quirked a brow. “Where on _earth_ did that come from?”

“Oh.” Marinette looked away. “It’s just something that I wondered about. Don’t worry about it.”

“I thought you knew. We were going to different schools and—“

“No, I know that. I meant… I mean, why didn’t you… try? Long distance or something.”

Alya sighed. “Sit down, girl.”

Marinette looked at the rumpled covers spread around her. “I am sitting down.”

“Then shut that pretty mouth and listen.” Alya moved closer to the camera, leaning against her desk. “I like Nino. He is a good person. He is a good friend, and he is a good boyfriend.”

“Then why–”

“Hush,” she said. “But he is also the first boy I ever dated. I mean, we were _fifteen_. We were going to go to new schools, meet new people, and we were going to want to try new things. I’m not dumb. Schoolyard romances don’t last forever. And it would be hard going through these years and missing out on a lot of those experiences, no matter how much we cared about each other. So in the end, we decided that we didn’t want to risk losing a good friendship, in order to stretch out a relationship.”

“Aren’t you bothered about him being with other girls?”

Her friend smiled. “I just want him to be happy. If something was meant to happen between us, then it’ll happen again. In the meantime, we’re just going to live as we are.”

Then she paused, giving a sidelong look to the camera. “Actually, there was one girl in particular I was curious to see if anything ever eventuated with.”

“Alya.”

“Well, he used to have a crush on you, girl. For years! It’s the whole reason we ended up together, if you remember. I knew you were going to the same school, so I naturally thought if it was going to happen it would happen now.”

“Alya!” Marinette couldn’t believe she was hearing this.

“I’m not saying it’ll happen,” Alya placated her scandalised friend. “I’m just saying you never know.”

“How do you know it hasn’t already happened?” Marinette challenged.

Alya grinned. “I know because you are absolutely rubbish at hiding things, Marinette. I don’t think you could keep a secret from me.”

That twang of guilt came right on cue. Marinette smiled awkwardly.

“It’s funny,” she said. “I never really questioned it before. I mean, you were both so good-natured about it. It just seemed natural.”

Alya moved from the desk to flop onto her bed. “So are you going to tell me what brought this on?”

“It was something Adrien said…”

“Oh ho!”

“Don’t!” Marinette interrupted before Alya could add anything more. “You’re still not off the hook for your stunt earlier.”

Marinette laid down fully, closing her eyes against a sudden dizziness.

“You okay, girl?”

“I’ll be fine,” she insisted. “What about you? Are you ready for tomorrow?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be. To be honest, I’m mostly just excited.”

“That’s good. I’ll be watching you.”

“I know.”

The two friends grinned at each other.

“You get some rest,” Alya told her.

“You too. Talk later.”

* * *

 

Marinette was resettling herself after an afternoon nap when there was a soft knock on the trapdoor. It opened, her father’s head popping above the floor.

“Papa.”

“How are you feeling, _chouette_?” He asked, holding the door over his head.

“Better, I think.”

“Well, it’s good that you’re up. There is something for you.” He came up into the room, and it was then she was able to see a ridiculously large bouquet of peonies he had clutched in his other hand.

She gaped. “What–”

“Your blond friend came by and dropped it off.” He said, handing the bunch to her. He seemed worried for a second. “He knows you’re not dying, right?”

“Adrien? Came _here_?”

“There is a card if you don’t believe me.”

And indeed there was. It was a very tasteful card; cadet-grey with stylised golden text. She couldn’t help but notice it wouldn’t have looked out of place in a Gabrielle Agreste line, although as far as she knew the Gabrielle House didn’t produce any Get Well cards.

A message was written on the other side.

_I didn’t want to wake you, but I hope these cheer you up._

_– Adrien_

A familiar heat came to her face.

_Please tell me that’s the fever again._

“I’ll take them down and put them in a vase,” her father said, laying one large hand on her head. “You get some rest, okay?”

He smiled at her as he stood up. “He seems like a nice boy.”

She sighed miserably. “He is.”

It was only as she was drifting back to sleep that she remembered the scarf. He’d come but hadn’t collected it. It seemed they would have to meet up again after all. Maybe...Maybe he’d wanted that.

 _No_ , she scolded herself. _You’re not doing this._

But she was too tired to stop the smile this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra tidbit: Adrien came by because Marinette never actually told him 'NO, don't come' (although she wanted to). If she'd said so, he would never disregard that request.  
> He feels really bad about the other day. A lot worse than he logically should be feeling. But then, logic was always Ladybug's strong suit, not his.
> 
> I'm really excited. We are almost to a close on Act 1. Then it's time to really get into the meat of things.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll post every month, I said.
> 
> It'll be easy, I said.
> 
> Now, please ignore me while I hide my head in shame.

Her fever came back during the night. Marinette turned restlessly, her sleep broken by shivers and fitful dreams. It lingered through the morning, and she spent most of the day napping instead of doing the homework she’d originally planned to do.

But she had no energy to even think about that. Instead, what little she could muster was tucked away for the evening, when she pushed herself up against her pillows and dragged her laptop from under the bed.

Today was the day Alya had been waiting for, and while Marinette couldn’t be there at the studio, she would make damn sure that she did all she could to support her friend. Even if all that meant at the moment was managing to stay awake. It was battle enough.

 _Noir sur Blanc_ was a relatively popular program on Sunday nights. Marinette had never really paid attention to it, though her parents occasionally caught it when it was on. It was a type of talk show, usually focused on local and current affairs, but it did occasionally stretch to lighter topics such as the latest fads, fashion, or interviews with minor celebrities.

Alya had sent her the livestream link, and Marinette settled herself in amongst her sheets for the start of the show, with Tikki perched on her shoulder.

A half-familiar trumpet peal played as the title card flashed across her screen. The lights came up in the studio, cameras panning to focus on the host. She was an elegant looking lady who sat comfortably in a high-backed armchair, golden skin and hair the perfect setting to her emerald dress. She smiled warmly at the camera.

“Good evening, and welcome to _Noir sur Blanc._ I am Nadia Sarkozi. Tonight, we discuss Ladybug and Chat Noir, the Heroes of Paris. Every person in our city remembers the day when Ladybug first stood atop the Tower to declare herself the protector of Paris. Both she and Chat Noir have been watching over us since then, but as citizens how much do we really know about these larger-than-life figures?”

She turned to her left, bringing the attention to two people seated at opposite ends of a grey couch beside her.

“Here to help illuminate the topic, I have today’s guests: Alya Césaire, the young creator of ‘the LadyBlog’; and Edmond Proulx, the founder of _Citoyens Contre les Justiciers Masqués_.”

Marinette was so excited to see her friend on the screen, looking poised and professional, that it took a second or two for the full introduction to sink in. When it did, her grin fell and she shared a confused and wary glance with Tikki.

 _Citizens against masked vigilantes?_ Though Ladybug certainly did have her critics and occasional naysayers, she had never heard of a dedicated group before. Moreover, Alya had never even mentioned that she would be sharing the spotlight tonight.

The girl in question sat straight-backed, primly perched towards edge of her seat. The red tips and tendrils of her updo brushed lightly against the shoulders of her dress as she leaned towards the host, acknowledging her introduction. Her little ladybug brooch glittered in the studio lights.

Nadia gestured gracefully towards her. “Mademoiselle Césaire, the Ladyblog is the most popular resource for information on our two heroes. Where do you get all of this information for your site?”

Alya grinned. “The Ladyblog isn’t just a resource, it’s a community, and so our sources are as diverse as the city itself. It’s a way for the citizens of Paris to pool together their experiences of the phenomena we see, in order to create a clearer picture for everyone. And of course, Ladybug and Chat Noir are the focus of that picture.”

“And what about your personal contribution to the site? I believe that a lot of the videos come from your own intrepid attempts to document our heroes.”

“That’s true. Although I can’t be everywhere, which is another reason we need other contributors. I try to get as close to the action as possible though, so everyone can really see Ladybug and Chat Noir - see who they are and what they are doing for us.”

Nadia nodded, before gesturing to her other guest. “And you, Monsieur Proulx? Your organisation is also focused on Paris’ superheroes.”

The first thing Marinette noticed about Edmond Proulx was that he was incredibly handsome. His face could have been chiseled from pale marble, his dark hair cut just long enough to artfully curl against his cheek. Together with the beautifully fitted, rich midnight blue suit he wore, he looked as though he could have just stepped out of a magazine.

“That’s true.” He leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he gave a modest smile. “Although our function is quite different to that of the Ladyblog. What we hope to do is open up a discussion. We believe that Paris has become too engrossed in the _idea_ of the ‘Superhero’ and not the reality of it. We want to talk about the changes in our city that, unfortunately, include some of the negative effects of the Miraculous.”

“What do you believe is the biggest impact that they have had on the city?”

“There are some documented trends we can attribute to Ladybug’s presence. The largest and most overlooked of these is the steady rise in theft, assault and even more violent crime throughout the years they’ve been present in the city.”

Marinette’s eyebrows flew up.

Nadia seemed surprised too. “That’s a bold claim, monsieur. Are you able to explain further?”

“Over the past few years funding has been steadily cut to the city’s law enforcement, causing this correlated rise in crime in response.”

“It seems disingenuous to place this at the feet of Ladybug and Chat Noir.”

“Well, the problem here is that the city thinks that having two superheroes means we are safe enough that we can make these changes. They think we no longer need to defend ourselves and these heroes will do it for us. But in truth, this false sense of security is harming us, as Ladybug is not able to protect us from these crimes.”

“Excuse me, but that’s a little misleading,” Alya ventured. “Statistics have consistently shown that crime has decreased in areas where Chat Noir and Ladybug are regularly seen.”

“Yes, you’re right,” Edmond told Alya. “But what those statistics won’t tell you is that the areas Ladybug patrols are also the most populated. With our monuments and tourist hotspots, they’re already the ones with the highest police presence. It’s when we move out away from the city centre that we can begin to see the effect these cuts are truly having. This is the real Paris, the parts hidden behind the curtain. Ladybug doesn’t go there. And we have only to look at the rising hooliganism or even this recent spate of disappearances to understand some of the effects.”

Nadia lifted a hand toward Alya. “Mlle. Césaire, what do you feel is the biggest impact the Miraculous have had on our city?”

Alya’s eyes flicked over to the other guest briefly, her posture straightening as she took her opportunity to address the question at hand.

“I think the most valuable thing Ladybug and Chat Noir have given us is trust. We’re able to carry on each day and deal with the reality of akuma, or worse, the possibility of becoming one, because we trust that they will be there to put things right. That comfort, in amongst all the uncertainty of when and where and who will be next, is something we rely on without really thinking about where we would be without it. And the calm, the freedom it allows - _that_ is the biggest impact they’ve had on this city, and it’s something we don’t really realise is there.”

Their host turned back to the well dressed man beside her. “Do you agree, monsieur?”

“Mlle. Césaire brings up an interesting point,” he conceded. “Being able to face akuma, to live with this possibility everyday, has been the reality for all Parisians since Papillon first came to our city. But this is not a reflection of our trust in heroes. It is a testament to the strength and resilience of Parisians ourselves. _We_ are the ones facing this crisis without magic powers, after all.”

He clasped his hands together somberly. “But it does raise another question,” he added. “One I think has been long overlooked: what is it exactly that makes people susceptible to being akumatised?”

Alya faced him. “It’s not a question of susceptibility,” she explained. “It’s just magic and manipulation, and there’s no counter to it. All it requires is a moment of emotional distress and the terrible luck of being noticed.”

“There are millions of people living in Paris, thousands of whom may be having a bad day at any given time, yet they are not all akumatised. The people who have been chosen are but a tiny fragment of those thousands. If poor emotions were all it took, then why are akuma so relatively few?”

“Mlle. Césaire,” the host interrupted, “I recall you were akumatised once. Perhaps you can shed some light on this?”

Alya hesitated. “We’ve theorised that it’s likely due to a limitation on Papillon’s power.”

“But this is just a theory,” Edmond cut in. “You don’t know exactly.”

“Well, no, but—”

“In fact, it could be any number of things. It could be that the reason so few have been affected is that it requires something more than just ‘a bad day’. Maybe it needs a certain weakness? Maybe it’s even based on something genetic? It would certainly explain why akuma are, going from the numbers, statistically rare.”

“Monsieur Proulx,” Nadia stated firmly, “that’s a dangerous line to go down without evidence.”

He held his hands up placatingly. “You are right, and I don’t wish to cause people to worry unessecarily, but we must be open. We must be willing to ask these hard questions if we want to find the truth.” He turned to address Alya directly. “I’m sure that as a burgeoning journalist, you would agree.”

The twitch of Alya’s brow told Marinette that she did _not_ agree, but she noticed the camera zooming in on her reaction instead tried for a more neutral expression.

Their host quickly darted into the conversational gap. “It’s been a little over three years since the Miraculous appeared, and already it’s hard to remember what life was like before them. What do you both feel the future holds for them and our City?”

Alya eagerly answered. “Ladybug and Chat Noir have only been growing in power since they first started and they’ve become more and more adept at defeating akuma. I know they will continue to defend Paris until we’re safe.”

Edmond leaned back in his seat. “When will that be?”

“As soon as Papillon is defeated,” she answered easily.

“And when will that be?” he repeated as he examined her skeptically. “I’m sure this is something we would all like to know.”

“It’s a good question,” Nadia added. “After all, this is the goal that they are both working towards. Have your experiences with Ladybug given you any insight into how this quest is moving?” she addressed Alya curiously.

“Well, I haven’t had a direct interview with either of them in a while,” Alya hedged. “It’s hard to know how far they’ve moved towards that goal. I imagine it’s something they wouldn’t want to broadcast for fear of it getting back to Papillon.”

Edmond scoffed. “That’s exactly the sort of thing they _should_ be telling us. The presence of the Miraculous affects everyone within this city.”

“Well, what do you expect them to do?” Alya seemed exasperated. “Submit a written proposal on their plan of attack?”

“And why not? We have a right to know whether or not Ladybug is close to finishing this.”

She gave him a hard look. “So, you’re happy to risk our enemy knowing their plans so you can tick some boxes?”

Edmond’s response was nothing more than to raise a discriminating brow. To Marinette’s familiar eye it was easy to pick out Alya’s attempt not to bristle at the patronising look.

“Tell me, Mlle. Césaire, how old were you when you started the Ladyblog? Sixteen?”

She frowned at him. “I was fifteen.”

“Yes, we all admire heroes when we’re fifteen. But people who have that much power also have a responsibility to those who are powerless. And all that we are trying to do is hold them to that responsibility.” His voice lilted incredulously. “Forgive me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that what _you_ originally intended to do? Wasn’t the Ladyblog actually founded with the intention of _outing_ Ladybug?”

Her eyes were stormy. She inhaled slowly, unclenching her hands and moving them to sit more demurely in her lap.

“The aim wasn’t to ‘out’ her,” she replied in a low voice. “The aim was to celebrate the _real_ people behind those masks for the sacrifices they’ve been making for us.”

“No need to look so serious. I meant no offense. Actually, I agree with such a goal. And that’s what our campaign is about. We only want accountability. I think it is time that she accepted it.”

“Accepted _what_?”

“The _Citoyens Contre les Justiciers Masqués_ think that if Ladybug is incapable of defeating Papillion, then she should leave Paris.”

Marinette sucked in a breath at the same time as her friend. Her hands clenched around the covers, eyes glued to the screen. Tikki’s comforting weight lifted off her shoulder and the kwami slowly drifted downwards. Her expressive eyes showed distress but not surprise.

On set, Alya found her voice. “What are you talking about? They’re still _fighting_ him. Have you forgotten the people she’s rescued from harm? The victims they’ve saved?”

“That damage only happened because she and the Miraculous are here in the first place. The people are in danger.”

“Ladybug and Chat Noir appeared _because_ of that danger. They appeared to face it.”

“We only have her word for it. You have no proof that it’s true.”

“And you have no proof that it’s not!”

“Mlle. Césaire,” his tone shifted, voice biting with sudden and surprising vitriol, “the _truth_ is that Ladybug has utterly failed in her duty to Paris, and we have all the proof we need. In fact, _you’ve_ given it to us. Three years of the same routine over and over. You have shown us every public second of that and of the absolute inability of Ladybug and her accomplice to achieve anything.” Tangible energy thrummed through his words. “Three years ago she promised us that she would find Papillon. But we are no closer to that goal than that first traumatic day this recklessness was unleashed. Ladybug hasn’t stopped anything. Chat Noir hasn’t stopped anything. All they’ve done is prolong this ridiculous charade. And Paris suffers as they play at power. When can we return to living our normal lives? When can we stop living with fear of akuma?”

He leaned in. “I’ll tell you when. Paris will never be safe until Ladybug and _all_ of the Miraculous are gone.”

Marinette felt sick and heavy. Her palms were sweaty where they grasped the doona.

Alya sat rigidly, her cheeks flushed, body taut as she refused to budge. “What you’re saying is ridiculous,” she told him hotly. “These are _real_ people. People who _live here_ who have been giving their time - who’ve been _risking their_ _lives_ \- to defend all of us, including _you_. And you’re asking them to defeat a madman within your imaginary time frame? You’re asking the impossible.”

“If what I’m asking is impossible, then I guess they can’t really be all that ‘miraculous’,” he sneered. “I must say, I’m disappointed in you, Mlle. Césaire. I thought you were a journalist. I didn’t expect you to let your biases interfere so much with your ability to handle this logically.”

Chin high, her glare could have seared bone. “The _truth_ isn’t biased. And you can take your disappointment and shove it, because frankly, I don’t care what you think.”

Their forgotten host chose that moment to interject. “Mlle. Césaire, maybe if we could calm down for a moment—”

Alya was incredulous. “Calm down? Are you serious?”

Abruptly, she stood, tugging roughly at the collar of her dress. Her ladybug brooch flashed under the studio lights. “I’m not going to sit here and let you slander good people,” she said. “Ladybug might protect us from monsters but it’s on us to protect her from people like you!”

She tore the microphone from her dress, letting it drop to the floor. “I’m done.”

Turning on her heels, she stormed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thank you to my beta, Deadybones. You are my story angel.


	9. Chapter 9

Even as Alya walked off the screen, Adrien leaned closer to his, watching as the handsome face of Edmond Proulx smirked at the camera. Others might have called that expression solemn, but Edmond's eyes glittered with something that looked too much like victory.

Their hostess forced a laugh to break the dead air. "Well, Monsieur Proulx, I suppose it's just us now."

Edmond sighed. "Yes, it is a great shame. You must admire the passion in someone so young, but when all you have to support your arguments is passion… Well, you know what they say."

"What do they say?"

His smile was mild and amiable. "When you burn too brightly, you blind yourself to the truth."

Adrien watched every second of the remaining interview, a prickling awareness creeping up his spine like the raised fur of a cat. When the program finally ended, he clicked off his TV. Pacing back and forth, he worried about Alya. The show had taken a troubling turn. He thought about what, if anything, this man and his organisation would mean for him and Ladybug. And of course, presuming she'd seen it, he wondered what Ladybug was thinking, and what she was doing right now, out there somewhere in this city of millions.

Before his mind could descend into its favourite preoccupation of imagining what the nameless, faceless civilian Ladybug was doing at any given moment, he drew it back and tried to focus his energy on something he could do now. Plagg was reluctant to agree, more so than usual, but Adrien had to leave. Had to work out this nervous energy. And he knew exactly where he wanted to go.

The toe of his boot made barely a whisper against the ceramic roof tiles as he moved to get a better vantage of the house across from him. One of the lights was still on in the upper floor. He had a pretty good guess as to whose it was.

He knew how much Alya had been looking forward to appearing on the show. She'd told him herself not two days ago how she'd intended to use the time to promote her site. In the end, she'd barely mentioned it, putting it aside as she tackled the greater questions posed by Edmond Proulx. But Alya had always been one to speak for people who weren't there to speak for themselves.

"Thank you," he said to the distant window, the words dispersing into the night air as a puff of mist.

It was as he watched it that he noticed something moving on the roof across the street.

Chat blinked, feline eyes crystallising on the source of the movement. A figure was huddled down just where the flat tile shifted to a peak over the window, hidden by shadows the wan starlight couldn't break. But Chat didn't need light to recognise that profile.

Using his baton, he vaulted across the street to join Ladybug before he'd even really finished processing that she was there.

She sat with her back leaning against the steep side of the peak, her knees pulled up to her chin, head resting between her arms. She looked up at the scuffing noise he made as he tried to signal his presence.

"My Lady." He greeted her with a soft grin.

"Chat," she said with muted surprise, "what are you doing here?"

It wasn't until she asked that he suddenly realised how odd it was for him to be there. Knowing Alya, she had probably given Ladybug her address during one of her many attempts at an interview, but Chat had no such convenience. There was no reason he should know this address. In fact,  _Adrien_  barely had, as the only reason he'd found Alya's house at all was because he'd spent twenty minutes digging through his school files for the old class list he knew he'd kept somewhere.

"So cold." He mock winced. "And after I've come all this way to see you." He didn't answer her question, but she let it go, which he was grateful for.

She sat tucked into herself, arms and legs crossed protectively in front of her. He found something odd about the picture before him. She looked small. Well, she  _was_  small, but usually it wasn't something he noticed. Ladybug wore her confidence draped over her like a cloak, making her seem larger-than-life, like she couldn't be contained in one skin.

Something very unlike the figure seated before him. He rocked back a step, tail swishing, taking in the scene. Some strange instinct told him that she'd been sitting there for some time. "What are you doing?"

She looked up at him for a long moment, lips pursed. "Guarding."

He blinked at the unusually curt response. She lowered her gaze, instead looking out over the empty rooftops. "If there is one person in Paris he'd try to akumatise tonight, it would be her."

Well, that confirmed it then. Although he'd suspected as much when he'd spotted her crouching among the shadows of  _maison de_   _Cesaire_. She'd seen the program. She'd obviously seen Alya's reaction. But even though it was important and he knew that's what he should be focusing on right now, for some reason he couldn't seem to let go of the idea that something was amiss with Ladybug.

There was a strange tone to her voice that tugged at his memory. She'd spoken slowly, quietly, almost as if she was short of breath. Chat moved in closer as a thought settled in his head, and was surprised when instead of meeting his gaze she looked down, subtly shifting away from his examination. But this close he was already able to pick out what he might not have noticed had he not thought to look for it.

The skin across her cheeks and nose was slightly darker than the rest, the difference hard to spot in the low light. He could pick out tiny movements in her arms and shoulders even though they were tensed, clasped tightly around her legs. The situation felt familiar, right down to the bead of panic that was steadily snowballing in his stomach.

"Are you sick?" he blurted.

Her face scrunched and she frowned up at him. Chat crouched in front of her, extending a hand towards her but not quite daring to touch. She stared at it dubiously - and a bit groggily - as the little shivers danced down her frame.

"Please," he said, flexing the fingers of the hand he extended.

With a soft huff that was enough like her usual self to calm some of his worry, she placed her wrist in his hand.

She definitely had a fever. Not even the insulating nature of their suits could hide the heat coming off her skin, or the tremors she was obviously trying to minimise. He ran his claws gently over her forearm to her elbow before bringing them back to clasp her hand.

"What are you doing out?" he asked, dismayed.

"How did you know?" she groused instead.

Chat didn't think she'd be interested in hearing about his recent bumbling attempt at socialising. "Lucky guess. I think there must be something going around."

Her tremors grew worse as she gave up trying to suppress them and he swallowed down the worry before it overcame him again. There were no Alyas or Ninos here to fix things this time. Well, technically Alya  _was_  in the room below, but he didn't think she'd appreciate him barging into her room at 1 a.m as Chat and demanding she heal Ladybug.

Then he rethought that and realised that actually she might like it, but that didn't make it any more of an option.

No,  _he_  had to do something and Chat—admittedly still less than knowledgeable about illness, but remembering how cold Marinette had felt and how much she'd appreciated his scarf—reluctantly left Ladybug to go and fetch the cosiest thing he could scrounge.

With autumn well and truly underway and winter already impatiently creeping up undercover of night, there unfortunately wasn't any laundry conveniently out on the lines to select from. But in a stroke of luck, someone had left some fuzzy throws on their balcony chairs. Chat swiped them with nary a second thought, hurrying back to the pointed rooftop.

"Here." He laid the first one down on the cold tiles, almost shooing her towards it when she eyed it from her huddled limbs.

"Did you just steal a blanket?" she questioned, but nevertheless shuffled over to sit on the fluffy fabric.

"We're just borrowing it." He draped the second one over her, so that she was effectively swaddled from the cold on all sides.

Not really knowing what else to do, he moved to sit opposite, sliding his back down a metal pipe. Or a chimney. Maybe it was an air duct?

What were these things seemingly on every roof?  _You'd think I'd know by know_.

Ladybug clutched at the excess of blankets around her. Truthfully, Chat wasn't even sure if they would help: through the winters and summers they'd worn their suits, Chat had never actually felt hot or cold. He'd always assumed that the magic extended to protecting the wearer from the elements. Maybe that was the problem here. Maybe because the heat was coming from within, the suit wasn't able to adjust in the same way.

He was broken out of his musing when he realised he was being watched, glancing up to find Ladybug's blue eyes gazing at him from over the top of the blanket. He froze under the weight of her stare, then started when she wordlessly lifted one corner out wide, silently inviting him to join her.

Chat held his breath. Their partnership had grown a lot from the days of awkwardly dancing around each other.  _They_  had grown. Even so, there were still times like this where she surprised him. Chat could confidently say they were friends but there remained some boundaries she was very careful with. Outside of battle, physical closeness was one. It was always special when she broke the professional mask to remind him in her own way that they weren't just partners. And though she usually did so with a long-suffering expression, he cherished it each and every time.

Ladybug shook the corner impatiently at his hesitation and Chat scrambled across before she could retract it. He settled next to her, leaving a couple of centimetres between them, and mimicked her posture, wrapping his arms around his legs. He imagined how comical they must look, with the blanket stretched between them, swamping her shaking shoulders yet barely covering his knees. Their height was one of the other things that had grown. Or rather,  _his_  had. Disarmingly, Ladybug had remained more or less the same.

She shifted a bit until her chin poked up from beneath the cover. Her nose crinkled. "Chat, are you wearing cologne?"

_Oh no._

He'd completely forgotten. It had been for his own benefit, to cover the lingering scent of the Seine still caught in his hair, but he had doused himself in some sort of concoction that morning. And for nothing, in the end. He could still catch sour whiffs of river algae despite the perfume and the fact that he had scrubbed his scalp at least ten times the night of the swim.

"Well, the last time we met you  _did_ mention odours," he told her.

"It was you and your 'enhanced senses' that brought up the topic," she reminded him. Her eyelids were half-closed before she lifted them suddenly. "Wait, do  _I_ still smell?"

He made a show of sniffing at the top of her head. "Yes, terrible."

"Oh." She seemed shocked. The illness was definitely affecting more than her temperature. Normally, she would've been naturally distrustful of his solemn tone.

His grin gave him away before she caught on. "I lied, you smell fine. I think your kwami isn't as lazy about preventing 'harmless side-effects'."

She hummed disapprovingly. "And I believe you also made a threat about nursing me."

He nodded. "I did."

He'd never thought the teasing promise would actually come true. He eyed her carefully, noting her glassy gaze and the clammy sheen over her skin and remembered the last time he'd seen something similar. She frowned under his examination.

"Tell me if you need to throw up," he said.

Her frown turned to bemusement. "What will you do?"

"I'll catch it." He cupped his hands in a bowl in front of her.

His chest swooped in delight at her small, breathy laugh. Or maybe it was more of a snort. He didn't really care.

"Gross," she said in an attempt at reproach. "And really not all that helpful. Aren't you going to try and send me home?"

"I know you well enough by now to know that it won't work." His lips quirked. "You're one of the most stubborn people I've ever met, and trust me when I say I know some  _very_  stubborn people."

 _Like my father. Or Alya_ , he thought, ruefully remembering the reason they were both there. Edmond Proulx's victorious smirk danced across his memory.

"I saw the program," he told her.

She slowly lifted her head. "And?"

"I was surprised. I thought I was the only Cat in Paris until they managed to go and dig up that sourpuss."

She gave a familiar sigh and leant back against the roof. "This is serious, Chat. How many people feel the same as him?"

"It can't be that many. I've never heard of the organisation before at all. "

She made a noise somewhere between a hum and a groan as she raised one hand to her flushed cheek. The ball of worry Chat was suppressing twisted sickly in his stomach. She shouldn't have to deal with this. Not right now.

"Don't worry," he added. "We've had critics before. They always come around. Why would this be any different?"

"Because he was _right_. Where are we  _going_ , Chat? What are we doing? I've been wondering that myself." She grimaced. "I shouldn't be surprised that someone else had the same questions."

"Ladybug?"

"What have we learned about Papillon in all this time? We don't know who he is, or where his base is, or even what he wants the miraculous  _for_." She was breathing shallowly, her eyes bright and unfocused. "We don't know where akuma come from. We can't predict them. We can't prevent them. We can't get any clues from the victims because they forget everything."

She finished on a deep breath. "He was right. We're not getting anywhere."

"No, he wasn't." Chat couldn't say he was shocked. He'd known long ago that she was the more pessimistic of the two of them, but hearing these thoughts from her ached. They had done so much for their city. They sacrificed so much of their lives. How could she doubt them like this?

"He wasn't right," Chat told her again. "We're helping people. You're sick and giving up your time to protect a stranger—"

"Chat, don't." For some reason, this line of thought seemed to make her more upset.

He tried a different tactic. "We're not soldiers, my Lady. We're not workers. We're not here to save the world. All we need to do is keep the citizens of Paris safe. That's what we've done."

Her lips pursed. He thought she might keep pushing, but then her posture sagged and she sank back into the blanket with a shiver. He hadn't seen her this uncertain since the first time that Papillon had challenged them in front of the Tower.

"It feels so meaningless sometimes. What's the point of these powers if we can't  _change_  anything? It's like we're caught in a loop. Don't you… Don't you ever get tired of it?"

He had goosebumps.

"No," he whispered.

The air felt crisp enough to break, the night colourless and dull except for the faint glow of the Tower in the middle distance. He was silent as her gaze roved out over the sleeping city.

"Something needs to change, Chat. We can't do this forever. I… I have dreams I want to reach. I had a plan, before all this started." Her eyes were like ice, piercing the warm protection of his suit. "Isn't there something else you want to be?"

His immediate response caught in his throat. Feelings he'd gotten better at controlling were pushed back down into their neat pen. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable.

But he still felt it.

_I don't care what I am as long as I'm with you._

**Author's Note:**

> Any and all feedback is welcome. I would really appreciate any comments, even if it's just quoting a line you liked or hated.


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